


Oh, That’s Surprising. Is it Surprising? Why is it Surprising?

by Sherlycakes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 5+1 Things, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, Johnlock - Freeform, WIP, but not for season 3, perhaps not season 4 either, somewhat canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:52:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8679382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlycakes/pseuds/Sherlycakes
Summary: Five times John was surprised by Sherlock Holmes and one time he wasn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta’d, not brit-picked.  
> I do not own Sherlock, John, or any other characters from the BBC show. They belong to Gatiss and Moffat.  
> Transcripts take from Ariane DeVere on LiveJournal (thank you!)  
> Find me on Tumblr: bakingsherlycakes.tumblr.com

**ONE**

John Watson had survived one hell of a day. It didn’t start out that way. In fact, it began when he decided to take a nice walk through Russell Square Park. _But nice is a relative term, isn’t it_ , John thought wryly. _When you’re only walking about so you don’t have to tell your therapist you spent another full day indoors without talking to anyone. When you’re wondering why nothing ever happens to you. When you’re hoping your damned psychosomatic limp won’t be as noticeable as the last time you ventured out of doors. Well_ _at least I can say the_ idea _of a walk was agreeable._

With that in mind, he planned to keep to himself for a couple of aimless hours then head home for a hot cuppa, the newspaper, and another early night to bed.Cue one Mike Stamford, who appeared out of nowhere and inadvertently steered John directly into the path of a storm named Sherlock Holmes.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock asked. And John was lost, swept away by this strangely beautiful man who saw right through him in an instant.

 _No, not through me. Into the heart of who I am with just a flick of those piercing eyes_ . _How is that possible?_ There was no time for an answer as Sherlock stripped John bare with deduction after deduction, “...invalided home from Afghanistan...brother who’s worried about you but you won’t go to him...alcoholic...therapist thinks your limp’s psychosomatic…that’s enough to be going on with, don’t you think?”

As Sherlock swept from the lab at St. Barts, John knew he would do anything to feel that spark of wonder again. Rather than being incensed, John was staggered. It was electric. Not knowing how Sherlock could suss out everything that mattered about him with only a glance made John feel like a kid at a magic show. _There’s no way I’m_ not _going to look at that flat now,_ John realized. _I want to get to know this man and see more of how he does it._

Going to 221B Baker Street did not disappoint. John hadn’t been there fifteen minutes before he was again blown away by Sherlock’s brilliance. As they caught a cab to a crime scene, he finally asked his burning question, “Yes, how _did_ you know?”  

Sherlock smiled and said, “I didn’t know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. But your conversation as you entered the room said trained at Bart’s, so Army doctor – obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You’ve been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp’s really bad when you walk but you don’t ask for a chair when you stand, like you’ve forgotten about it, so it’s at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan – Afghanistan or Iraq.”

John listened, rapt, as Sherlock proved it wasn’t magic but his keen observation and genius intellect that fueled his deductions. Those sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing. _Well, except the part about Harry being my sister,_ John mused.

Still, John knew he wasn’t going to hold such a trivial misstep against Sherlock. _Nicknames can be tricky, after all._  By the end of the ride, John’s mind was reeling.

_Unbelievable. Never seen anything like this. There’s no one like him. At least, I’ve never met anyone like him. Brilliant, smug, arrogant, gorgeous. His voice...I could listen to him pick me apart for the rest of my life. He’s stunning._

_Wait. What?_  

What he said aloud was, “That...was amazing.” The words tumbled out of John’s mouth before he could catch them.

To his astonishment, Sherlock turned around with grey sky eyes widened in shock, “Do you think so?” There was never an easier question for John to answer. “Of _course_ it was. It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary.”

Sherlock still seemed a bit stunned, “That’s not what people normally say.”

“What do people normally say,” John asked.

“Piss off,” Sherlock chuckled and flashed a small, barely there smile before he turned back to the cab’s window.

John got a feeling he was seeing a smile not many people got to see. He also knew without a doubt he’d do anything to make Sherlock smile like that again, to be the one surprising the detective for a change. And wasn’t that a revelation?

_Am I already attracted to him this early on? It’s probably too soon to feel like this. But, he’s mesmerizing. Charming. Exquisite. Bollocks, I am in trouble now._

As the night wore on, John continued to captivated by the whirlwind of Sherlock Holmes. Even being left at a crime scene and later kidnapped by Sherlock’s so-called archenemy didn’t stop John from feeling awed by his new flatmate.

_No matter how this night ends, it will still be the best day I’ve had since coming home from Afghanistan. I really must tell Mike thanks for the introduction. I never expected this._

By the time John had followed a certain consulting detective  through the streets of London chasing a cab and shortly after walked into a drugs bust in his own new flat, it was clear the genius would not stop astounding him anytime soon. Which simplified matters when John decided whether or not to shoot an unbalanced cabbie for a man he hardly knew.

 _Even if I don’t know much about him yet, I_ do _know Sherlock Holmes belongs in this world. And, I want him in my world. There’s no way I can go back to a life without witnessing his genius every day. Hell, it’ll be every bloody hour, if today was any indication._

So John took the shot.  

He surrendered himself to an unexpected, but not unwelcome, reality which included Sherlock Holmes.

The man who was his prospective flatmate and maybe, just maybe, might become a best mate ( _or more?_ ). The detective who wielded intelligence like a fine blade, cutting through extraneous information effortlessly, dazzling John again and again with his deductions. The captivating, clever idiot who left John breathless in all the best ways.

_I_ _had no idea. No idea at all._

_What a hell of a day. I can’t wait til the next one._


End file.
